Poetry

by Joe Eldridge   That which can be made Explicit to the Idiot is not worth my care. -William Blake   ………………………………………….is Kubla without Khan, Tintern without Abbey, Ozy without mandias, me without you—so to speak;   & I could truly embrace the Flower Children loving Blake in this color print pairing—   [the...
Read More »

by Melissa Dickson   I do not admire Perseus for killing one woman, in her bridal dress still breathing of love.  He shook in his hand the deadly face of Medousa, and turned armed Ariadne into stone.                                                            ~ Nonnus, from the Dionysiaca   A nectared thread in the maze …………and a cask of...
Read More »

by Melissa Dickson   Very well!’ he taunted, `If you rate my thanks so low, accept a gift!’ and turned his face away and on his left held out the loathsome head, Medusa’s head. Atlas, so huge, became a mountain; beard and hair were changed to forests, shoulders were cliffs, hands ridges; where his...
Read More »

by Melissa Dickson   She thinks she will stay here all day, her book hidden under a nylon blend napkin.   The vat of chicken livers is hourly restored; the iced tea mercifully unending.   There is cake. There are coconut macaroons and a perpetual chocolate fountain.   She thinks this is enough. Enough...
Read More »

by Angie Harrison   I abide summers that twist amid your wild briar coverts, and immense evenings that blossom like a red bruise.   As you shudder flesh into flesh in underbrush, a raven is loosed on the world. Feel my heart drum within.   Children, cover yourselves with leaves and come into the...
Read More »

by Angie Harrison   On the face of the dark water, woman’s white form (curved as the first gull-wing would be curved and both foam-carved) moved in orbits, gravid with gods and starmilk searching welcoming shore.   And here: where the land reached to catch her feet, these white tracks, three-petalled.
Read More »